


How to Score a Disney Prince

by imperfectabstraction



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Erica Sinclair Friendship, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Billy Hargrove, Gen, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Matchmaker Erica Sinclair, Racist Language, Steve Harrington & Robin Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 18:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19751800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfectabstraction/pseuds/imperfectabstraction
Summary: Erica Sinclair loves ice cream but she's also not impervious to the charms of Steve Harrington.Looks like Billy Hargrove isn't either.





	How to Score a Disney Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fun piece to offset the emotional devastation that was season 3.

No one is more excited about the opening of the Starcourt Mall than Erica Sinclair. Well, except for maybe Mayor Kline, but her Mama says he is only excited because he’s a “greedy, womanizing fool looking to line his pockets with good people’s money,” and she is excited because if there is one thing in the world that she loves to do, it’s shop. The first time she steps foot in the mall she just stops in the middle of the floor and lets her jaw drop open. There are so many stores. The Gap. JC Penney. Claire’s. They even have a RadioShack again!

She is so excited that if she was a sissy, like Lucas, she might even cry. It takes everything in her not to just spin around in a circle with her arms outstretched to try and take it all in. Finally, Erica Sinclair gets to sample the sweet life. Finally, Erica Sinclair gets to be in a place that is enviable.

Spending time at the mall becomes as easy as breathing Hawkin’s humid air. She spends nearly everyday glancing at the new products at Shapes and Sam Goody, waiting for the price tag to drop on a pair of electric orange jellies at Kaufman Shoes, and watching cute high school boys over an orange Julius in the food court. Erica loves the way the air conditioning in the mall dries the sweat off her skin from riding the stinky, overcrowded bus over here on days that her mother and father can’t drop her off. She adores the way her mocha colored skin looks dappled in the sunlight that glints down from the cathedral style glass ceilings.

All of her girlfriends think the mall is rad too. They should of course; Erica doesn’t waste time with fools, but it feels good to meet eyes with Chantal and see the same delight she feels reflected back at her in chocolate brown eyes. This is their new kingdom, Erica decides. The mall is their castle to explore and display as they see fit.

Once Erica Sinclair claims ownership of something, the people know. She knows some of the businesses are intimidated by the way that she, Chantal, Andrea, Gina, and Courtney strut around like they own the place, but technically they do. Supply and demand, Erica thinks. If she and her friends weren’t demanding new products these stores would die like withering fruit on the vine. They should be so lucky that she brings her business here. Starcourt could just as easily turn into the empty stores lining Main Street. That’s a fact.

A fact that she really feels tempted to remind Freckles of when she deigns to give her business to Scoops Ahoy. Freckles is the female sailor that can barely get her lines straight when Erica or Chantal ring the bell requesting service. She’s a white girl who overapplies her eyeliner and has a woe is me look on her face whenever Erica and her girls walk in, like she’s too good to appreciate having an actual job in a bustling new economy. She under scoops their ice cream and can’t seem to understand that some people, like Erica, have a cultured palette and like to try multiple samples in order to make sure that meal matches mood.

Erica is not a fan of Freckles.

Erica is a fan of Steve Harrington though. Steve Harrington is movie star pretty with a head of movie star hair. He’s the kind of guy that a Ken doll is based off of, gorgeous skin, muscled arms, and legs for days. A fancy car and a big old mansion with a private swimming pool. Every time Erica gets to watch Steve Harrington’s freckled arms flex as he digs up a scoop of a dwindling ice cream flavor, she takes a moment to thank God for all the blessings she has in her life.

She recognizes that he is a total loser now who hangs out with her brother and his crusty friends and that he can’t get a date to save his life in that ridiculous sailor outfit, but what can she say? Steve Harrington is as hot as the whole month of August, reputation and outfit be damned. Chantal and Gina can’t even look him in the eye when he serves them—they just giggle and shuffle their feet, cheeks hot and eyes locked on the floor. It would be embarrassing if she didn’t understand. The reality is that Steve Harrington is always gonna be the primo choice for husband in M.A.S.H. The BMW alone is enough to forgive the sailor outfit in Erica’s opinion.

Thing is though, Steve isn’t just the looks or the money. He’s actually nice. He always greets her and her girls with a smile, an ahoy, and he never skips the script for them when they come to get ice cream. He looks exasperated but he always gives them as many samples as they want and he NEVER under scoops. When Gina dropped her cash somewhere along the way to Scoops, he let her have a U.S.S. Butterscotch for free and then walked around the mall with them for an hour, trying to find Gina’s money so she could afford the bus ride home, and he didn’t even bat an eyelash before offering her a ride when they never found the cash.

At first, she thinks maybe he is hanging out with Lucas and his dumbass friends out of charity. She’s heard rumor that Steve used to be a real asshole. She gets it; people as attractive as she and Steve Harrington are don’t need to stifle their shine for anybody and sometimes you have to check someone to ensure they remember they didn’t get the numbers right for the genetic lottery.

She has to remind Lucas all the time.

But Lucas’ friend No Teeth said that Steve wanted “to be more than a pretty face” and “change his wicked ways,” so it’s easier for her to think that hot boy Steve Harrington is atoning for his sins by forcing himself to interact with her smelly ass brother and his weirdo nerd friends and seeing how the little people live. It’s clear after watching Lucas and his friends harass Steve that it’s more than that though. He actually cares for her turd of a brother and his little gnome friends. 

Which leads her to her new belief. Steve Harrington is not like a Ken doll or a movie star. Steve Harrington is a like a fairytale prince and her brother and his friends are like the random forest animals that he sings to in order to complete mundane tasks. He ignores the clear risk of rabies or whatever gross diseases children that say words like “demogorgan” on a regular basis have because he loves all God’s creatures. It’s as admirable as it is gross and Erica begrudgingly kind of respects him for it.

It’s for Steve Harrington and the promise of a sundae that she steps through the archway for Scoops Ahoy alone on a Monday afternoon and strides up to the counter. Chantal is up at her grandmother’s for the week. Gina is sick and Andrea and Courtney are shopping with their Dad for a good gift that says sorry I forgot our anniversary after 15 years. Erica told him the greatest gift he could give would be shaving that excuse for a mustache off his face, but he told her that wasn’t helpful.

Some people don’t appreciate honesty.

She palms at the bottom of her ponytails and pushes her hair up to revolumize her curls; she has to look her best in front of royalty, after all, before reapplying some cherry Chapstick to her lips. It’s too hard not to wink at herself in the reflection of the glass display case when she looks this good dressed up in a light blue denim coverall dress and striped rainbow t-shirt with fleshly painted lavender toenails strapped in white sandals. She’s going to ask her parents if Lucas is adopted again because there is no way someone as cute as she is can be related to someone who says “tubular.”

Steve and Freckles are hiding in the back since there are no other customers in sight but that gives her plenty of time to peruse the selection of flavors and make sure she chooses the ice cream that is almost out to really make sure Steve puts those arms to work. Both mint chip and cherry jubilee look to be on their last legs and she taps her foot in time with wondering if she wants to dive into an ocean of sweetness or an ocean of refreshment. It’s while she is pondering that she notices that someone else has come into the shop, strode right past her, and is leaning against the counter like she wasn’t clearly in line first and ringing the bell incessantly.

“Uh, excuse you?” she snaps, crossing her arms across her chest at the boy jutting his hip out against the counter, still tapping at the bell in too tight jeans and a plum colored button up shirt like it wasn’t hot as hell outside.

The boy barely turns towards her, blue eyes narrowed, and nose wrinkled in disgust as he continues to slam his palm against the bell as dirty blonde curls fall into his long lashes. “You’re excused,” he deadpans before turning back to the doors behind the counter.

Erica recognizes him as soon as their eyes meet. It’s Billy Hargrove that has just cut her in line. The guy with the cool blue car. The new lifeguard at the gross community pool. The new White boy all of the Hawkin’s moms are obsessed with. Max’s psycho brother who beat up Lucas.

She’s not sure what is taking Steve and Freckles so long. Hopefully they aren’t making out in the back because Steve can do better than some girl who under scoops. It’s a shame though. Erica likes having an audience when she’s about to verbally destroy someone.

Billy slams his palm down onto the bell again but this time her palm slams down onto his. She’s a little surprised when he flinches, jerking forward before sliding away and putting some distance between them, a look of surprise on his face. “What the fuck?” The blonde bimbo snarls at her.

“Let me tell you what you’re not about to do right now,” Erica smiles, her hands on her hips as she plants her feet in front of the boy who had the audacity to come after her brother when no one other than she should dare. “What you’re not about to do is cut me in this line. So, I suggest you get behind me or we are going to have a problem.”

Erica can really tell Billy’s a bimbo when instead of heeding her warning, he just starts to laugh. “Why the fuck would I listen to you? How old are you? Five?”

Erica is right on the verge of telling Billy Hargrove that he better get his ass back in his car and drive all the way back to California before she puts her foot so far up his ass it comes out of his brain when Steve, like a Disney hero, appears on the scene.

“Ahoy!” He starts with a smile before it turns into a grimace at the sight of Billy. “What the fuck do you want, Hargrove?” The brown-haired boy says tiredly, plucking his sailor hat off his head to drag his fingers through his luscious hair.

“Pretty boy!” Billy smiles with too much teeth, tongue wiggling between his incisors. “Is that the way you always speak to paying customers?”

“Only when the customer is you,” Steve deadpans. He notices Erica then and the annoyance on his face seems to fade and transform into a look of concern. Steve looks between them, Bambi eyes wide in his handsome face. “Everything okay here? Erica?” He asks while making pointed eye contact with her.

It’s not hard to decide that she is going to massacre Billy Hargrove by throwing him under the bus. Really she had a harder time deciding whether she wanted mint chip or cherries jubilee and much like her choice, she wants to experience the sweetness that is utterly destroying one’s enemies. But then she is interrupted—again.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t everything be okay, Harrington?” Billy practically foams at the mouth.

“I don’t know, Hargrove, you tell me?” Steve says with crossed arms.

“You think I’m gonna beat up some little girl?” Billy asks, his hands balling up into fists at his side. Erica notices for the first time that there are two strips of paper being crushed in his grip. They’re movie tickets, she realizes.

The eyebrow that Steve raises is a clear challenge. “I mean, I don’t know man, it doesn’t seem like that much of a stretch for you. Just saying.”

“That what you think of me, Harrington? That I’m some crazy fucker that gets off on beating little kids? Little girls?” Billy yells, spittle flying from his lips.

“I don’t know! Maybe! You sure as shit never seemed all that sorry for hurting her brother _or me_ so who knows what you’ll do!” Steve screams back at Billy.

“Gentlemen!” Freckles yells as she emerges from the swinging doors. “Let me remind you, Steven, that yelling at customers is not a part of company policy and let me remind you, mullet hair, that there is a child nearby and maybe we shouldn’t be dropping F bombs left and right.”

“Fuck this,” Billy hisses between clenched teeth. “I don’t know why I…Fuck you, Harrington.” He says before storming out the door, the tickets still clenched in his hand.

“Such an asshole,” Steve mutters under his breath, replacing the sailors cap on his head after running his fingers through his hair three or four times. “You okay, Erica?” He asks, leaning toward her on the counter as Freckles watches Billy Hargrove stomp through the mall with a frown on her face.

“Of course, I’m ok,” She scoffs, but her eyes follow Billy as he keeps striding through the mall. He pauses at a trash can and two pieces of paper flutter from his hand into the red bins. Her curiosity grows as the flames of her ire heat up. “I don’t need you to defend me. I can tell Billy Hargrove all about himself all by myself. Nobody cuts me in line.”

A smile plays on the edges of Steve’s mouth. “I’m sure you can,” Steve says softly. “Still, how about a free sundae for having to deal with assholes?”

“Ugh, it’s coming out of your tips, Steve!” Freckles says with a sigh before strolling back through the double doors.

“I never say no to free ice cream,” Erica replies.

“No one ever should,” Steve winks.

If she were lame her heart would have fluttered.

One cherry jubilee sundae with extra hot fudge, whipped cream, and three cherries on top later, she makes her way out of Scoops Ahoy with new pep in her step. Billy Hargrove did not get to cut her in line, and she got free ice cream. Even though she didn’t get to tell the blonde about himself, she is still counting it as a victory.

She glances down at the My Little Pony watch on her wrist. The bus is coming in 12 minutes and she had better get on it if she wants to get home early for supper. Her Mama is making meatloaf and potatoes and she just knows if she doesn’t get there before her Dad, he will pick out all of the potatoes with crispy edges and strategically plan to put them all on his plate.

Erica makes her way to the mall entrance, but her curiosity gets the best of her as she passes the bins that Billy Hargrove has thrown the movie tickets into. She can’t even articulate why she’s really interested. Maybe if she sees that he went to see something embarrassing, she can use it as ammo against him the next time he tries something. That seems like a good enough reason for her to slow down next to the trash, licking the spoon clean to peer at the tickets perched precariously on the edge of a pizza box.

The tickets aren’t ripped—which means that Billy Hargrove never took whoever it was he wanted to see The Stuff with to the show. On top of that, the showing printed on the ticket is for 8 o’clock tonight and it’s not even 4:30 yet. But the thing that makes her really pause is the shadow of something scribbled on the back of one of the tickets. She can’t help herself—her Mama has always told her she’s nosey—and before she knows it, she has placed what remains of her sundae on the bench and reaches for the tickets.

Only one has writing on it and the writing is god awful. It’s worse than chicken scratch. She manages to read it anyway because once Erica Sinclair sets her mind to something, she always gets it done.

_Harrington-_

_I’m sorry. For everything. Truce?_

That’s…surprising, she decides on, pocketing the tickets in her dress. She grabs up her sundae again as she strides out of the glass doors leading to the parking lot and the bus stop. The tickets were for Steve then? Steve and Freckles?

No, she stops, her eyes wide as the bus heading downtown lurches away on ancient wheels to reveal a shiny, blue sportscar sitting in the parking lot. There’s a figure hunched over the steering wheel, forehead pressed too gently against the horn to make it sound off. The figure sits up suddenly, making her jump, and she steps back slightly as Billy slams his fist into the wheel once, twice, three times, before starting the car with an explosion of sound and pulling out of the parking lot like a madman.

Math has always been Erica’s strong suit. Equations aren’t hard to understand or memorize.

It’s not hard for her to figure out that the tickets weren’t for Steve and Freckles. They were for Billy and Steve.

It’s also not too hard to hypothesize why a boy buys another boy movie tickets and then sits in his car for 15 minutes sad and angry that the other boy essentially told him he thinks he’s a giant douchebag who hurts little kids.

The only variable still under consideration is this one: what’s she going to do about it?


End file.
